


Sacro Romano Impero

by VivaHetalia (Labracadabrador)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Labracadabrador/pseuds/VivaHetalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Germany and Italy are training when Germany suddenly falls ill. Follow my voice, Italia...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacro Romano Impero

"...Urk... My head..." Germany stumbled and put a hand to his face. Behind him, Italy caught up and looked at him with worry. Germany never stumbled.

"Germany? Hey, Germany, are you okay?" Germany trembled a little and suddenly sat down in the middle of the track they were training on. He didn't trust himself not to fall over if he remained standing.

"Italy... I don't feel very well." The headache was getting worse by the second. "Perhaps we should... break off training a little... early today."

"Yay! Alright!" Italy gave a quick skip of glee around Germany, before squatting down in front him. "Umm... do you think you can walk back to your house? You look kinda pale."

"I'll have to try. It's not like you can carry me, Italy." Italy blushed a little, but nevertheless helped Germany up and supported him as he walked across the private athletics track his government had bought for him and back to the place where he and Prussia lived.

Germany only got worse as time went past. Italy laid him to bed in the room where they sometimes slept together and pressed a damp cloth to his forehead. He had called for Prussia, but he was not home. Germany gave a rasping cough, and Italy soothed him.

"Ssh, Germany, it's okay. It's all gonna be fine. You're gonna be better soon, and then I'll make pasta, right?" He tried not to cry. Germany didn't need to see his tears.

An hour went by, then two. The sickness did not pass. Germany's face got paler and paler, and he squeezed Italy's hand less and less. His breath came in shallow flutters as he lost consciousness.

"Germany? Germany?" Italy's voice rose in pitch as he began to panic. This time, there was no comforting squeeze of the hand that was linked with Germany's. "No! Germany, not... not again..."

He checked Germany's pulse. It was weak, but steady. The regular 'thump-thump' of his heartbeat was the most beautiful music in this world right now to Italy.

"...Are you there... ...Can you hear me... ...Are you there..." Italy looked up to Germany's face.

"Germany?" It had been Germany's voice, but the nation had not spoken.

"Can you hear me... Italia..." No, there was something different about the voice. Germany would never call him 'Italia'. The only person that would do that would be-

"Italia... come to me..."

Italy dropped the wet cloth on the floor and sprinted out the room to follow the voice.

* * *

Italy found him sitting on the grass under a shady tree near the house. He reached out his hand to touch the other nation, not believing it was him and not just a fleeting mirage.

"Italia, you're here." Italy's hand brushed black fabric - he was real - and then he was yelling and crying and sobbing and diving into Holy Rome's outstretched arms.

"HolyRomeyou'rehereIthoughtyouweredeadyouhavetohelpmeGermany's-" Italy froze and tensed up. Holy Rome merely repositioned Italy on his lap and encircled his arms around him, covering Italy with his cloak and resting his head in the crook of Italy's neck.

"Italia, I've missed you, so much..." Italy relaxed in Holy Rome's embrace.

"I've missed you too." They were silent for a while, enjoying one another's company, not knowing what else to say.

Eventually, Holy Rome shifted and drew back.

"Italia... I... all these years I promised you that I'd return. I-I did return, Italia." He wiped the tears away from Italy's face with black cloth. "Don't cry, Italia, please don't cry."

"H-Holy Rome... Sacro Romano Impero... I didn't wait for you. I'm sorry. I-I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, Italia. I have slept deeply for many, many years. Is this still the Nineteenth century?"

"No, it's the Twenty-first." Holy Rome's grip tightened with thinly veiled astonishment.

"That long? Everything seems so foreign here. You have made metal suits of armour that carry you where you wish to go, be it on the land or flying through the sky like angels. I'm proud of you, Italia. You've finally grown up."

"Holy Rome..." Italy suddenly remembered. "Germany! Oh, Holy Rome, I'm so sorry. I thought - I thought he might be you, just without your memories. He's sick; he's really sick, and I'm not sure if he's going to make it."

"I know, Italia. I feel it. Germany shares my heart and my soul - my land and my people. They cannot support both of us. When I was killed, he was born. While I slept, he was awake. And now that I live again, he is dying." Italy wrapped his arms around himself and shook with the force of his sobs.

"No. No, no! Germany can't die!"

"Ssh, Italia. There is a way to save Germany."

"H-how?" Holy Rome let go of Italy and stood up. The sun shone behind him in silhouette, making his clothes and hat darker than they originally were.

"I can see now that you prefer Germany to me, Italia."

"W-what? No! Of course I..." Italy couldn't finish.

"He is the true representative of our heart and soul. Big Brother Prussia too... else he would not have remained proud and strong while I slept. I have been selfish, Italia... forgive me... I am just the remnants of an ancient nation that no longer has a reason to exist. My life is killing the one you love, and I won't stand that any longer." He drew back and pulled a sword from his cloak.

"No! I'm not going to let you, Holy Rome!" Italy dived for him but he stepped out of the way. "I won't permit it!"

Holy Rome stopped. He looked at Italy, then at the sword. Then he sighed.

"Very well, Italia. Then I must do this." Suddenly, he lunged forward with the sword. Italy gasped and scrambled back out of the way. "Defend yourself, Italia!"

"What are you-"

"If you will not see me go, then I will stay and I will kill both you and Germany. Is that what you wish?" Italy's eyes were wide and betrayed.

"Holy Rome, I don't understand!"

"That matters not now. Either fight me or die, and consign your love to death as well if you do."

Italy trembled wildly as he rose to his feet. His vision sprang black spots as the adrenaline kicked in. His muscles tensed and focused. Germany had trained him well.

Holy Rome stabbed at him again, and Italy twisted under the sword. He shut his eyes, clasped his hands together, and spoke.

"I'm sorry... Exorcizo te, immunde spiritus!" His eyes flashed open and he thrust his right hand forward, clasping a glow of yellow light.

The beam struck Holy Rome in the chest, and he dropped the sword as he was thrown backwards onto the floor. He struggled back into a sitting position.

"Well done, Italia... I knew you could do it... You were finally able to make the spell work. I never could." Holy Rome smiled. Italy ran over to him and knelt down by his side, the horror of what he had just done overcoming him.

"Y-you... why did you..."

"Nations cannot die by swords, Italia. We are not mortals. Only the magic of another nation can kill us. I'm sorry, Italia, but it had to be done." He took a breath that was just beginning to sound raspy. "If it's any consolation, it means a lot to me that you were the one who did it..."

Italy slipped his arms around Holy Rome and hugged him as tightly as possible. The other nation returned the hug, but his grip was weakening by the second.

"Italia, the first time, when France stabbed me in the chest, I was terrified of dying. I'm not terrified now. Do you want to know why?"

"Yes!" Anything to make Holy Rome keep speaking, to make him not give up!

"It's because, the first time, I was scared of leaving you alone. I'd promised you to wait for me, and I didn't want to break that promise... Italia, now you have another nation to care for you and you won't be alone. And I want to make you promise... don't wait for me." His voice became quieter and quieter, until he was merely whispering under his breath. Italy strained his ears to listen.

"Gloria patri, filio, et spiritui sancto... sicut erat, in principio... et nunc, et semper... et in saecula saeculorum..." He drew in one last breath.

"Amen." Italy spoke the last word with him. Then, Holy Rome's eyes drifted closed and he did not breathe again.

"Holy Rome?" Italy shook the body. There was no response. "Holy Rome!" Nothing. "Sacro Romano Impero!" He never failed to respond when called by that name. Still, nothing happened.

Italy buried himself in Holy Rome's cloak and folded it around the two of them like a black cocoon, and cried and cried and cried. When he stopped, it was because Holy Rome's body was beginning to lose its heat and he could no longer pretend to himself that the other nation was just sleeping.

He stood up, arranged Holy Rome's clothes so his hat wasn't skewed off at an odd angle and his cloak wasn't rumpled, before leaving to find Germany.

...Germany...

Germany? Wait! Yes!

Italy started running full pelt towards the house, through the door, and up the stairs to Germany's room. He burst in and yanked Germany's arm.

"...Italy?" He had regained some of his colour and enough awareness to know who was holding him. "What's going on? Is something wrong. Were you crying?" His face hardened and he got up from the bed.

"Please, Germany! There's no time to explain! You need to come with me now!" Italy pulled again on Germany's arm. "Please!"

"Italy, I will follow you. Go!" Italy ran again, with Germany close behind. Both were not in good shape - Italy's breath came in ragged gasps from the sobs and the running to the house, and Germany felt like he might faint at any second.

There was only one way to save Holy Rome, and that was to get the two countries to unify like he and Romano had. That would work, right? It had to!

Germany ran after Italy as they exited the house. He did not know what had happened, but Italy needed him. That was the only thing to consider.

He saw a black form lying under a tree and watched Italy run towards it, before stopping short, falling to his knees no three metres away, and outright screaming.

"NO!" He walkied over, head swimming with sudden fatigue and no longer trusting himself to run.

"Italy?" His voice was cautious, testing the waters. Italy sniffled.

"Germany... he's gone..." There was a pile of black clothes, a cape, and a golden rimmed hat. A body was nowhere to be seen.

"Who?" It was strange, for he knew he had never seen those clothes before in his life, but he felt like he knew them.

"Germany..." Italy blindly reached out his hands and Germany took them, hoisting Italy to his feet before pulling the smaller nation into a hug. He didn't know what for, but it didn't matter. "He wanted me to promise not to wait for him, Germany. I can't do that. What should I do?"

"Italia, you're going to have to explain-"

"What did you just call me?" It was accusatory. Germany stopped.

"I-Italia? I'm sorry, Italy, it was just a slip of the tongue." Italy stilled in his arms and then asked in a tiny voice...

"...Umm, you know that stick that you carry around as a lucky charm? Could you show it to me?" Germany was bewildered. He took Herr Schtik from his belt and gave it to Italy. "My deck brush... I..." And then suddenly Germany was being squeezed in a hug so tight that he was barely able to breathe. "You're him! I know it, you have to be! His heart and soul, they're yours too!" Happy tears were making a wet patch on Germany's shoulder, and he stood there utterly unsure of what had just happened.

"I, er, yeah. Sure I am, Italy. Italia." Somehow, even though he had barely used it before, that nickname just felt... right.

* * *

They buried Holy Rome's clothes in a grave under that tree, with just three people attending. Prussia and Germany took turns to do the digging; Italy sat there holding a dandelion in his hands and talking to the sky.

"It's okay, Holy Rome. I'm not gonna wait for you to come back, and I'm not gonna follow you either. Don't worry. I'm gonna stick with Germany, too, okay? I'll make sure he takes good care of your heart and soul." He blew on the dandelion and the seeds scattered on the breeze of his breath. "I guess that makes you a ghost now, huh... Holy Ghost?" He giggled. "Oh, that's kinda funny. Prussia, Germany, and you - you're like the Trinity, aren't you?" His face fell. "I probably shouldn't blaspheme like that... oh well. I'm sure you'll put in a good word for me when it's my time to go."

"Italy, it's time. Did you want to say a few words?" Italy shook his head at Prussia's question.

"I've already said some. You go first. I might do some at the end."

Prussia stepped up and looked down at the clothes in the grave.

"Heiliges Römisches Reich, I raised you since you were a little kid. I thought you'd died long ago, so I guess I mourned you then. That's probably why I'm not crying." Liar - his eyes swam with tears, he simply didn't allow them to fall. "Well, good luck, wherever you are." He stepped back and motioned for Germany.

"Holy Roman Empire... I never met you, and I don't know what you look like. I don't know what would have happened if two nations, personifying the exact same country, were to meet. Maybe that's why the universe kept us apart." He stood stiffly, awkwardly, not sure how he was supposed to cope with the wave of sadness that rose in his chest and threatened to choke him. "Thank you so much, for taking care of Italy before I could. And thank you for taking care of my people too. And thank you for giving me Her Schtik." Suddenly, he was laughing. The whole thing was so absurd. Prussia looked at him worriedly, and he composed himself again. "I'm... not even sure how that happened. I don't remember back that far. I-" He choked and stopped. "I-" again, he couldn't say anything more. "Sorry, I can't go on. Italia?" There it was again, that slip of the tongue. Italy nodded and knelt down by the grave.

"Sacro Romano Impero... Requiem in aeternam... dona eis... Domine..." He fell silent and just stared blankly for a while. Birds chirped in the background, completely unaware that this was meant to be solemn. Holy Rome would probably prefer it this way. He wouldn't want Italy to miss him once he was gone.

The silence stretched on for thirty seconds or more. Then, Italy stood up and backed away.

"Okay. I'm done." His face was dry. He had no more tears to cry.

Together, they filled in the grave with dirt and marked it with a wooden cross. Prussia offered to do more, but both Germany and Italy refused. They went back inside to give Holy Rome some peace.

A single black feather, torn from the wing of a bird or an angel by the wind, floated down to rest on the grave. It was followed by a black eagle that perched there, on the cross, and gave a single cry of mourning. Then, it took of and spiraled up into the sky, up above the word with its metal birds and moving armour, away from the realm of mortals, up towards the sun.


End file.
